Eli glanced across at her Ma. Her jaw still so tightly clenched, it was a wonder she hadn’t ground her teeth to dust. She sat racked with tension, her arms clasped across her body.
She stared directly at Eli.
‘Did I tell you, Daisy and I took the little ’uns to the zoo the other day? They’re growing up so fast now. John Junior’s nearly as tall as me, I’m sure of it. They’re just so cute. Harley did not stop askin’ for the toy lion – in the end I had to give in. ‘“Nanna, please, Nanna, Nanna, Nanna!” Oh they’re just too adorable.’
So this was her mother’s ammunition. Eli smiled politely and with her hands underneath the table, she pressed hard on her bandage. Trudy’s incessant chatter reverberated around the room. Eli never forgot her Ma’s face the last time Johnny broke off his engagement to Daisy. All hopes of a so-called ‘grandchild’ she could coo over near dashed. They’d been engaged on and off for going on eight years. There was always some excuse or other why he couldn’t make it down the aisle.
Daisy would run on into Ma Bell’s arms, bawling her eyes out, screaming down the house, until Eli’s Ma settled her down and the tantrum would stop. Soon enough they’d be back on again and the engagement ring she had torn off her finger would be shining brightly on her left hand like nothing had happened. It took another two years after the last breakup until she got him down the aisle. From the look of relief on her and Ma Bell’s faces when he said ‘I do’, they could have fainted right there and then.
Eli, distracted, tried to retrace every little detail of today. Was the purse alligator or snake? She really couldn’t remember. It was one of the large purses she’d seen in fancy magazines. Eli stood up, collected up the plates with a clatter, and carried them over to the sink.
‘They look so like her. John Junior has such curly blonde hair. He’s goin’ t’grow up to be a right little heartbreaker. Such piercin’ blue eyes too, haven’t you noticed?’ Her Ma’s voice rose a level, sensing Eli wasn’t listening.
Eli turned from the sink and took a breath.
‘Oh yes, just adorable, Ma.’
The woman’s eyes were blue, she was sure of it. Bright blue. And the perfume – was it honeysuckle? No jasmine, definitely jasmine.
No one offered to help Eli clear the dishes. Instead, realizing women’s work was to be done, the men soon gave in their hands of cards and staggered from their chairs ready to leave, the remnants of beer and whisky on their breath.
At the first opportunity, Trudy stood again and walked straight to the door.
‘Well thank you, dear; that was …’ she paused ‘… just fine.’
The boys each slapped Eli on the back, their familiar way of acknowledging full stomachs.
As they tumbled through the door, the rumble of her brothers’ slurred voices disappeared into the night.
Eli collected together the last of the crockery and glasses and stacked up the plates.
Tommy poured himself another whisky and sat back down at the table.
‘Oh, Ma, yer potatoes are lovely, Ma,’ Eli teased.
‘What?’ Tommy said, guilt written all over his face.
‘Go on up to bed. I’ll just tidy up down here. Be right up.’ She looked back over her shoulder towards Tommy.
He swayed a little on his feet. He collected the empty beer cans from the table, tipped them into the trash can and stumbled up the stairs.
Eli followed soon after and closed the bathroom door. Staring hard into the mirror, she inspected her reflection. Her jawline had begun to sag; shadows had developed under her eyes. She peered closer. Lines had formed below her hairline. When did she get to be so darn old? She slipped off her dress and glanced at herself. She was in OK shape she guessed. Her hips a little chunky (like her mother’s!), her breasts now sagging, but that was to be expected.
She turned face on and caught sight of the creamy scar above her pubic bone. She stepped forward and traced it with her fingertips. Raised a little from the rest of the skin, the silky mark the only trace of what had happened. Eli opened up the fingers of her right hand and held her warm belly. Naked in the moonlight, Eli closed her eyes and took a moment to remember, to remember how she had felt.
The bedsprings creaked. Eli opened her eyes, unhooked the cotton nightie from the bathroom door, flung it on, and stepped into the bedroom. The curtains were still open, and the ajar window let in the tiniest of breezes, making little difference to the stagnant air. She tugged at the wooden frame and lifted it higher, noticing the moon, full and heaving in the sky.
She pulled back the sheet and slipped underneath it.
‘Y’OK?’ Tommy asked, whisky on his breath.
‘Sure.’
Eli heard the gentle thud of Mississippi’s paws as he wandered up the stairs and into their room.
Eli smiled at Tommy, leaned over, and kissed his forehead.
Tommy closed his eyes and within minutes, his chest expanded and retracted, his breath deep and thick from booze. The moonlight caught his face. He wasn’t so bad-looking. His ginger hair had greyed a little at the sides, and he’d put on weight since they had married, but who hadn’t? She’d made sure he was well fed. His hands were chunky, his nails blackened from motor grease. Even if he washed a thousand times, it was impossible to remove. Eli edged closer towards him, hesitated a little, and placed her hand on his arm. Outside, the cicadas hummed their evening melody.
Eli too closed her eyes. She recalled how cold the pickling vinegar had felt against her skin. The tender way the woman had bandaged her hand. Her soft cool fingers; snow melting against her skin. Eli turned over. A desperate sickness clutched at her stomach. She rehearsed each detail over again. An overwhelming sense of panic gripped her. What if it was her? Why hadn’t she stayed in the parking lot and followed her home? She had been so overwhelmed by the way she sat holding her hand until the manager came, barely two words had passed her lips. What must she think of her in her tatty, coffee-stained dress, soaked in a puddle of pickling vinegar?
Perhaps she was crazy, but there was only one way she was going to find out.
It didn’t take long into our marriage before Tommy and I slotted into each other’s routines. Like two new pennies at the arcade, we were glistening and full of great anticipation. Whilst Tommy went to the garage, I prepared the house for his return. He made it pretty clear from the offset he didn’t want me going out to work, which suited me just fine.
I would awaken at six a.m. and prepare his and his Mama’s breakfast, just like my Ma did for my Pa. I’d let the smell of bacon waft upstairs before opening the window. My Ma always said if you fill a man’s stomach, he’d fill the house with goodness. I’d run his bath for him, a little before frying the bacon, so that it had cooled a touch, by the time he soaked himself. Just the way he liked it.
My Pa only ever had a bath in the evening and thought that as he was going to get himself dirty by mid morn, there were no point in cleaning yourself again. But my Tommy, he liked things precise. That would change in the years to come. He liked his bacon with the fat on but crispy, his coffee sweet and black, his biscuits buttered to the edges, and so I’d run his bath, fry the bacon, pour him some coffee, and check the water was just